


Duty, Honor, Country (and Family)

by songofthe52hertzwhale



Category: Dalton Academy Series
Genre: Gen, I've never been to West Point I did my best I'm sorry if it's wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 13:40:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20098105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songofthe52hertzwhale/pseuds/songofthe52hertzwhale
Summary: Everyone expected the Willis twins to rise through the ranks of the Army.But only one of them actually wants to.





	Duty, Honor, Country (and Family)

**Author's Note:**

> And now for something completely different...

Sydney soars through West Point.

It’s not easy, of course. There are days where she makes up with aching bones and weak muscles, where every cell in her body screams at her to just stay in bed, just stop all of this and sleep a minute longer.

But she’s trained herself for this kind of discipline, has prepared for it her entire life.

Even when it’s hard, even when she _hates_ it all, she drags herself upright, pulls her sheets into tight hospital corners and smoothes the blankets until not a wrinkle can be seen. She runs, she pushes, she climbs, and she studies harder than she ever has before.

She worries, at the beginning, that she’ll miss her friends from school too badly. She’d bonded with the other Dobry girls, found a support system that kept her together for four years of terrible boyfriends and difficult classes, who’d screamed with excitement when the thick envelope with a West Point stamp had come for her in the mail, as she’d read through her appointment certificate with baited breath.

But she finds the girls at the Academy don’t become friends as much as _sisters_. They stay up together late at night, folding and re-folding t-shirts until everything’s up to the harsh inspection standards. They stand in a line before the bathroom mirrors each morning, pulling hair into tight buns and passing gel back and forth until they all look perfect. They stand together even when the boys are cruel, when they roll their eyes as some of the girls struggle with push-ups, when their hands slip low on narrow waists when nobody’s looking.

When Sydney snaps a wrist for getting too bold, she becomes the hero of the first-year cadets. The girls admire her, the boys respect her. More than a few of the male cadets approach her after the fact, apologize for the actions of their brother and promise that they’ll do better to monitor their own.

She soars, here. It’s where she belongs.

Spencer doesn’t feel quite the same.

His acceptance comes two days after his sister’s, and for forty-eight wonderful hours he lets himself believe he’s been rejected. There’s six acceptance letters from art schools across the country tucked away in a drawer, and he’s told himself he’ll finally tell his father if West Point rejects him.

But they don’t.

He knows, when he sees the envelope, that he’s about to entire a life he doesn’t really want for himself. It’s thick, with a row of stamps across the top, and he knows the rejections don’t come in the same thick booklet that the acceptance certificates do. He’s a _coward_, he knows, as he calls his father, and the pride in his voice hurts more than Spencer’s ever known.

But he goes. 

It’s just like college, he tries to tell himself. Four years of some of the most academically challenging classes the world has to offer. Five years, after that, of Army service he can’t let himself think about. He’ll still be in his twenties, once all that’s over, and maybe his father will finally approve of his choices if he’s given this whole thing a shot, first.

He knows he’s not as good at this as Sydney.

He sees her name near the top of every list — some of the best grades in their year, PT scores that rival many of the boys’. Spencer struggles, a bit, finds himself exhausted from the lack of sleep as he spends hours doing homework and practicing his drill movements. 

Still, he’d grown up with all this. His grades are good, his PT scores better. 

But then they put a rifle in his hands, and he freezes. The instructor is shouting out commands, giving them orders of how to shoot.

Spencer’s hands shake.

“Just pull the trigger, Spence,” he hears, and he wonders how Sydney had managed to squeeze in beside him, “It’s okay. It’s just a paper target. Just pull it.”

He pulls the trigger.

His bullet zips through the air, passes cleanly through the center of the target.

He can’t breathe.

She calls her father every week with updates. She can hear the pride in his voice when she talks about her grades, when she tells him she’s been selected for summer Field Training, when her instructors recommend her for an additional leadership course. He congratulates her on excelling, on proving herself above all the others.

_Above Spencer_, he doesn’t say.

She knows Spencer hasn’t enrolled in any of the summer trainings. They aren’t mandatory, after all, and he didn’t want to be here in the first place. It’s frustrating to watch, knowing that Spencer’s accomplished so much himself and just doesn’t _care_ about the thing Sydney cares about more than anything.

But she can’t think about him.

She steels her mind at Field Training. She’s laser-focused, going after OPFOR with the idea in mind that they serve an actual danger, that this is _truly_ a life-or-death scenario.

After all, it very well could be, one day.

It’s what she wants. A job that puts her right in the thick of things, a job where she’ll be in charge of actual tactical maneuvers and operations.

They make their dream sheet in their final year. Sydney stares down at the paper for too long, even after all the research and thought she’d put into this over the years.

In the end, she scrawls down just three jobs.

She knows it isn’t up to her, not entirely. Everything comes down to _the needs of the Army_, after all. Someone will evaluate all she’s done here, will look at her major in Defense and Strategic Studies, her minor in Terrorism Studies, will examine her PT scores and all her test results. Whatever she gets, she signed up for the moment she raised her right hand. 

Miraculously, she gets her first choice. She sees the way her mother inhales when she tells them she’s been selected as an Infantry Officer, arguably one of the most dangerous jobs available to her. She knows their mother had secretly hoped Sydney might not inherit the military gene, that one of her kids would be home safe.

If she’d wanted that, she should’ve picked Spencer.

“_Jeez, Willis,” _one of the boys says, when Spencer opens yet another extravagant care package from Merril, _“How do I get myself a girl like that_?”

Spencer just smiles, as he always does, quietly goes through the box of snacks and books and letters from his girlfriend. They come every Friday, like clockwork, and Spencer lives every week for them. Merril decorates them with hand-drawn pictures, construction paper hearts, handfuls of confetti. They’re always stuffed to the brim with things that make him smile, things that make him ache with how much he misses her.

The boys here are nice, for the most part. But he never quite feels the comfort he did back in Hanover, always feels like he has to be just a little bit on edge around them. He’s almost scared, to tell them too much about himself, that they’ll judge him or treat him differently for what he wants and who he loves.

When they get to choose their majors, second year, his heart nearly stops. There, halfway down the page, is a phrase he hadn’t dared to dream of: _Art, Philosophy, and Literature._

It’s not quite the art-school education that he hoped for. It’s based more heavily on English and Philosophy, but Spencer finds the classes a relief after the hours of military drill and obstacle courses. He studies Plato, reads Shakespeare. He takes on a minor in Diversity and Inclusion Studies, meets a transgender cadet who he finally, _finally_ feels comfortable opening up to.

_“They aren’t all bad, you know_,” the boy tells him, “_Some of them are a little backwards, of course, but you shouldn’t have to hide who you are and who you love. You’ll never survive this without being honest_.”

He finds friends, finally. A small group, smaller than his large family at Dalton. But he feels _comfortable_ with them, with this group of men and women who admire his drawings and ask him about Merril.

When they get the notification of their jobs, he’s almost scared to look. He knows he won’t be able to handle certain careers, that he’ll _never_ be able to point a weapon at another human being and shoot.

It’s one of his new friends — his new _brothers_ — who comes to him with a smile, tells him that they’ve both been selected for Civil Affairs.

Spencer nearly sobs with relief.

Sydney’s three months into her first deployment, and she wants to _die. _She’d known from the beginning, known since she was a child how hard deployments could be. She’d seen her father come back from them, seen the way he’d jumped and tensed at every loud noise, the way he’d sleep for days at first to recover.

It’s different, when it’s her.

The desert air is stifling, wells up in her throat and makes it feel like she’s swallowing handfuls of sand. It feels like they never stop moving, heavy rucksacks dragging down her shoulders and catching on the strands of hair that escape her bun. She can’t show weakness in front of her troops, has to maintain the image of a strong leader even when she wants to tear her uniform off and cry.

But then, just as she’s feeling hopeless, an operation _she’d_ planned goes better than they ever could’ve imagined. She’s congratulated, personally, when a SpecOps team captures a known terrorist, when a chemical weapon storehouse is successfully raided. Her father flies out personally to present her with the award she earns, and she only barely maintains military bearing as he presses the tiny ribbon into her palm.

It’s hard, and it’s _long_, and she misses everyone back home, but the feeling she gets after a successful operation means so much more than all the pain and hardship ever could. 

She gets letters that she keeps in a locked trunk at the foot of her bed, letters that she reads over and over until the ink fades beneath her fingers. Merril sends her care packages, every so often, just as wildly creative as the ones she’d sent Spencer all through the Academy.

Spencer writes, too, tells her all about his own job and reminds her to _be smart and stay safe, I’ve already picked out your Christmas present._

Despite how important she finds her work, she can’t help but be relieved that Spencer’s nowhere near. She loves her brother, more than anything, and she knows he’d be _miserable_ out here. He’s too nice for that, too sweet and soft and innocent.

She’d fight like hell to protect him from a life like this.

Civil Affairs is nothing like what Spencer thought the Army would be like. Immediately after graduating West Point, he’s sent to England, of all places, to enroll in a joint program with the British Armed Forces. He’s sent to language classes, to diplomatic trainings, to _classrooms_.

It’s so much different from the boots-on-the-ground trainings his sister has.

The first time Justin comes to visit him, Spencer actually cries. He’s made friends in the Army, of course, but nobody who understands him quite like Justin. The other man hugs him tight, congratulates him for making it through all this, for landing a job he might actually _like_. 

_“It’s not fighting at all,_” Spencer tells him, _“I just talk, and I negotiate, and I plan. I don’t even have to shoot a gun_.”

He actually finds himself enjoying his trainings, his work. He has enough free time that he manages to enroll in a night class at a local art school, actually gets to use his leave to visit Merril back in the States.

When word of Sydney’s deployment reaches him, he doesn’t know how to feel. It’s what she’s always wanted, he knows, to get into the fight first-hand and actually see combat. But he’s so goddamn _scared_ for her, can’t help but see his twin as a child, a little girl thrust into war so far away.

It’s unfair, he knows. She’s more than capable, can handle a situation like this better than anyone he knows. But he can’t bear to lose her, couldn’t handle a phone call telling him that the worst had happened, that his sister will be coming home in an oak casket draped with an American flag.

He keeps a countdown on his calendar, for the day Sydney’s deployment ends. He marks the days off religiously, breathes a sigh of relief every time Sydney has the chance to connect to internet and video chat or e-mail. She looks tired, each time, but so, _so_ proud of herself, and Spencer tries to keep the fear from his voice.

Still, on the day she returns, he takes leave to meet her at the airport. He stands there, with his parents and Merril and Justin and a handful of Sydney’s other friends, and he cries when Sydney steps into view, her uniform still wrinkled from the long flight.

It’s him she runs to first, nearly tackling him with the force of her hug, and he squeezes until he’s absolutely _sure_ she’s really there.

The years go by faster than either of them could’ve imagined. Shortly before their five years of mandatory service is over, Spencer’s phone lights up in the middle of the night, Sydney’s name flashing across the screen.

“_You’re not staying, are you_?” She asks, and Spencer knows exactly what she’s talking about.

He’d never intended on staying past five years. They both know that. His plan has always been to get out, to pursue what he _actually _wants, to settle down somewhere with his beautiful girlfriend and finally present her with the ring that’s been tucked into his sock drawer for two years.

“_No,_” he admits, and hopes he doesn’t disappoint her.

Sydney has no intention of stopping. It’s another fact they both know. She’s just off her third deployment, and her motivation has only grown stronger. There’s a shiny new rank on her shoulders, rows of medals on her service coat. She’s exactly where she wants to be, primed to take after their father in every single way.

“_Do you think he’ll be upset_?” Spencer asks, and Sydney doesn’t have to ask who he’s talking about.

Sydney doesn’t answer, at first. She knows their father will be disappointed, knows he’s always wanted Spencer to follow in his footsteps. So instead, she says something else.

_“I’m proud of you_,” she tells her brother, “_Screw what anyone else thinks_.”

Five years after they graduate West Point, Spencer stands beside his parents and hand-in-hand with Merril as his twin sister swears an oath to continue to serve. Her service uniform is perfectly pressed, her awards shiny on her chest, a small smile on her face.

Spencer, by contrast, is wearing a pair of dress slacks, a white button-up beneath a new sports coat. He’d taken his uniform off for the last time three weeks ago, immediately been dragged to a party with Justin and Merril and Danny and all his friends from Dalton and West Point, dozens of people celebrating his freedom. There’s an application for art school on his kitchen counter, one he hasn’t quite worked up the nerve to send out just yet, and a beautiful woman on his arm.

It’s exactly where he wanted to be, albeit a few years late, and he feels nothing but happiness about where he is.

Sydney takes his arm after the ceremony, beams at the ring on Merril’s hand and tells him that he _better give me notice for the wedding, you know how hard taking leave can be sometimes_.

He grins back, pretends to brush a piece of dust of her pristine uniform and promises that he will.

He’ll still worry, every time she leaves for deployment. She’ll scream with delight when, years later, he answers a video chat with a tiny squirming bundle of blankets in his arms. He’ll jump on a plane the moment he hears word Sydney’s been injured in the field, will help bring her home as she recovers from a bullet wound to the thigh. She’ll use the recovery period as an excuse, will teach his toddler naughty words and laugh with delight at Spencer’s horrified expression.

But no matter what happens, no matter what changes life brings them, they’ll always be there for each other. Just as they have been, from the day they were born.


End file.
